


Pride Month Challenge

by hummingbirdbandit



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canon Gay Relationship, Disaster Gays, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, M/M, Pride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-17 09:22:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14829630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingbirdbandit/pseuds/hummingbirdbandit
Summary: A challenge to write one drabble for each day of Pride Month 2018!  Featuring a smattering of ships, with prompts provided by the Karkat Thirst Discord Server!





	1. Melting

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt - Melting

“Come on, Dirk, I know you like ice cream!”  Dirk rolls his eyes behind his shades, eyes locked on the dripping, sticky mess in Jake’s hand.  It’s a one hundred degree summer on the island, and the sun beats down like a torturer’s whip on his victim’s back.  It turns the ice cream sandwich in Jake’s fist into a soggy mess.  Jake offers it to Dirk again.  “Go on, then, take a bite you finicky thing!”

Dirk considers all of the reasons he should absolutely not touch anything so gross, but those thoughts are overridden by the fact that it’s Jake, with his heart-stopping smile and bright eyes, making a gentle request of him, and it is dangerously difficult to say no to Jake English.  Dirk sighs and leans forward, lips wrapping gently around the cold treat.  Jake watches, and his gaze does funny things to Dirk’s gut.  Licking his lips, he breaks eye contact and thanks his shades and his sunburn for hiding his blush. 

“Thanks,” he mutters, not wanting to ruin the moment.  Jake is on him like a blanket, dropping the melting sandwich to the dirt and wrapping Dirk up in strong arms.  Ice cream smears along Dirk’s arms and into his hair, following Jake’s gentle fingers along his skin.  Their lips are sticky, but Dirk doesn't recoil from the sickly-sweet affections.  He sighs into the kiss.

He really needs a shower. 


	2. Lace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Lace

Rose has always loved finery.  Silk and satin bedclothes are the norm when your mother is obscenely rich, and growing up the way she did imparted an appreciation for the better things in life.  However, no amount of easy living and art exhibitions could have prepared her for the sight before her - a masterpiece, for her eyes only.

“Is this alright?” Kanaya asks nervously, twirling gently in place to give Rose a proper view.  The dress clings to every curve and dip on her body, and her grey skin peeks through the patterns in the fabric.  A light blush colors her a mild green, a color that Rose now associates with warm evenings and gentle caresses.  She breathes out. 

“Breathtaking,” she assures, feeling very plain in her slacks and blouse.  But that's just fine - tonight isn't for her.  It's for the woman she somehow managed to make hers.  “Shall we?”

Rose offers her arm, and Kanaya’s blush deepens.  Rose’s mind spins on its wheels as she helps her wife into the car, looking for something intelligent to say and failing.  The silence says plenty. 

Rose has always loved finery. But the silk and satin of her youth could never compare to lace. 


	3. Baking

Everyone with half a brain knows that baking is an  _art._ Simply measuring and mixing will create food, sure, but to create a  _dish_ requires focus and passion.  It is not something to be taken lightly, and deserves ones full attention.  That is, unless one's girlfriends decide to steal one's attention with inane prattle. 

"It's called 'shotgunning,' Janey, and you're gonna love it so get your pretty butt down here and pucker up!" Roxy exclaims, pulling Jane away from her meringue for the third time in as many minutes. 

"It really is quite lovely," Callie chimed in.  She clutches a blunt in one clawed hand and Roxy's hand in the other, smiling coquettishly up at the two of them.  Jane huffs. 

"Girls, if I do not keep my whisk moving, this meringue will fall flat.  Is that what you want?"  Roxy's answering giggle is bells and sunshine and disaster.

"Not at all, Janey-Paney, and I'll let you get back to it soon's you kiss me.'  She snatches the blunt and takes a slow, deep drag.  Her eyebrows waggle, as if to say 'get in here you stick in the mud.'

Jane sighs and leans forward, pressing their lips together as Callie chuckles at them both.  The heady smoke pours into her lungs like a liquid daydream.  Silken delight and chapped lips are her whole world for a blissful moment. 

"Oh," Jane breathes, exhaling the smoke.  Her dessert is forgotten. 


	4. Confession

"I'm not even sure I should be telling you this, but I can't talk to the real Dave about it, clearly!  I mean.  You are the real Dave, I guess I mean my Dave?  But he's not  _my_ Dave, I just..."  Karkat groans and throws a hand over his eyes, frustration and embarassment coloring his cheeks.  "He's just so infuriating!  Every time I think I've pinned down what he thinks or wants, he says something stupid in a grubfisted attempt to change the subject and like a coward, I let him!"

Davesprite nods, his face impassive.  He and Karkat had been rehashing this same scenario for days, and he can nearly recite it by heart.  He sighs quietly enough that Karkat can't hear and stretches his wings.  "Have you considered telling him how you feel?"

Karkat looks scandalized.  "What, and risk ruining the best friendship I have?  That's a whole new level of stupid, even for me."

A million thoughts race through Davesprite's mind, none of them productive and every last one painful.  This isn't his timeline anymore.  It's not his happiness to chase.  

"I think you should tell him.  He'd be receptive of it, I'm sure.  You'd make him the happiest asshole in Paradox Space."  He sighs again and gives Karkat a wistful look.  "If anyone would know, it's me.  I'm basically him, and feelings don't change much between timelines after all."

Confusion creeps across Karkat's face.  Then, more slowly, understanding.  

"I'm... so sorry."

Davesprite shrugs.  "Make him happy, KK."

He takes flight. 


	5. Creamy

Karkat lets out a whine as he shifts his weight, the twin toys inside of him spreading him open and buzzing against his insides.  He can't move much - Dave is damn good at tying knots.  The chair he is lashed to is just hard enough to aggravate the bruises and welts on his ass, but he doesn't have it in him to complain while watching Dave stroke himself just inches away. 

Dave hadn't bothered to take his suit off when he came home, and Karkat is equal parts pleased and embarassed.  He loves the feeling of being exposed before his husband, and the power play is that much stronger with the visual.  Karkat's mouth hangs agape, as instructed, and Dave smiles down at him.  "Gonna wanna close your eyes, sweetpea," he drawls, his eyes dilated.  Karkat swallows and obeys. 

Hot liquid splashes onto his face in spurts and Karkat moans, reveling in the taste as it drips onto his tongue.  Dave's groan is a melody he never tires of, and Karkat replays the sound in his mind as strong, sure hands rub semen into his skin and hair. 

"Fuck, you look good covered in my cum," Dave says, like he's discussing the fucking weather.  Heat pools in Karkat's gut. 

"Thank you, Dave."

He can't open his eyes, so he doesn't see where Dave disappears to.  He doesn't need to - the buzzing between his legs grows stronger.  Karkat gasps. 

"Knew that viagra was a good idea," Dave muses, and pushes his still-hard cock down Karkat's throat. 


	6. Transaction

Karkat groans and stares at the blinking screen situated anachronistically into the side of the ruins.  He hates LOWAA with a passion - hope powers just ensure that nothing makes sense.  The angels probably could have given them an answer to this riddle that didn't require funneling millions of boondollars into a hole in the rock.  Too bad they're all dead. 

"Well, we have to finish this puzzle to unlock the last one on my land, and I don't have that kind of money, Eridan.  You're gonna have to cough it up."

"Wwhat's in it for me?"

Karkat blinks.  "What the bilgeshitting duck do you mean 'what's in it for you?'  Potential for survival?  A chance at beating this game?  Not having my claws shoved in your gills?  What, are you hoarding this useless currency now?"

Eridan smirks, but there's something hidden in his eyes.  "Useless or not, it's still mine.  Howw wwill you pay me back?"  He leans close to Karkat, backing him into the stone wall.  "Howw about a kiss?"

Karkat rages, screaming himself hoarse.  Eridan's expression doesn't change - smug and expectant.  Spent, Karkat leans against the wall like a caged animal.  He flushes, indignant. 

"If you fucking tell anyone, I will shove your rings up your waste-chute and back out your squawk gaper," Karkat spits.  

Their lips meet.  Eridan sighs. 


	7. Scars

It isn't often that Tavros sees him asleep.

He takes him in with death-blank eyes, shaking fingers lingering just above the jagged marks that mar white makeup and sleep-flushed skin.  Tavros longs to touch them, to feel them under his calloused fingertips, but he knows if he touches them, he would wake.  And it had taken so long to find him in the bubbles.

Instead, Tavros drags his eyes along them, tracing the scars to where they disappear into his tangled mane.  He tries to memorize his face - who knows how long it will be before he sees him again?  With the army slowly growing, he can't afford to waste time tracking down a man who doesn't want to be found, who is so  _important._ Tavros knows, now, what it's like to be important.  To have a purpose.  The clarity of death showed him what could have been, had he realized it sooner, but it also showed him that it is not to be.  

They both have bigger roles to play.

So he takes this moment in eternity to sear the landscape of his face into his memory, to hold onto in the final days to come.  The scars are new.  He doesn't recognize them in this familiar face.  They shift slowly in his mind to scratch the images there, overwriting memory with reality.  He lays his fingers on his pale cheek.

Living eyes meet his own.  A loud honk, and he vanishes.

Gamzee gone, Tavros stands and returns to his mission.


	8. Choke

Sollux looms over Eridan, his movements careful and calculated.  A shattered psionic dampener lays beside Eridan's purple face, and Sollux growls at the sight, tightening his hold on the seadweller's throat.  Thought he could get the jump on Sollux while he was working, hm?  That was a fucking mistake.

Eridan's eyelids begin to droop and Sollux releases him, grinning at the dark lines of bruises he left behind.  Beautiful.  There's little he enjoys more than labelling his things.

"On your fucking kneeth," Sollux spits, dragging Eridan up by his ridiculously dyed hair as he rises to his feet.  He gasps out, more than a little pleased when sharp claws tear hot lines down his exposed thighs.  Still fighting back, even when he's lost the battle.  This is why Sollux still tolerates him.

Psionic sparks pry Eridan's mouth open as Sollux holds him steady, one hand knotted in his hair and the other clutching a horn.  His twin bulges burrow into Eridan's throat and Sollux throws back his head to moan.

"Fuck you feel good," he groans.  The tight coolness of Eridan's throat clenches around him and his gills flare desperately.  Sollux pulls back, laughing, to allow him a breath.

"Don't give up on me yet, we're jutht getting thtarted," he growls promisingly.

With a defiant glare, Eridan sucks his bulges back down his eager throat.


End file.
